


wait for me in the sky

by southern_stars



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Brief Mention of Alex's Service, Desert Date, Even Briefer Mention of Alex's Childhood, Light Angst, Like super light, Lots of kissing, M/M, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, nebulous future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southern_stars/pseuds/southern_stars
Summary: It's Alex's birthday and Michael wants to make it special. He has the perfect night planned at their spot in the desert - twinkling stars, a roaring fire, easy laughter, and kissing. Lots of kissing. It's what Alex deserves.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	wait for me in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Harry Styles' "Golden"
> 
> My deepest gratitude to Lambourn for beta-ing this. Before her assistance, it was a mess. But she saw the potential within and helped me reach it through much hand-holding and many, many edits. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3

Michael considers himself to be nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

And after years of dancing around each other, of push-and-pull, of fears and false starts, he and Alex have found their way back to each other at last. Circumstances in their lives have calmed down enough for them to give their relationship a real shot. Hence why he wants to make Alex's birthday special. It's their third official date and the first birthday either has celebrated since becoming boyfriends. 

_Boyfriends_.

The word still makes Michael giddy. It’s everything he’s ever wanted since he was 17, when a beautiful boy gave him shelter, gave him a guitar, and gave him his heart.

So after sharing a quiet dinner with Alex at his house, Michael leads him outside and into the old blue Chevy, the site of so many shared happy memories, with the intention to make another one. 

He tells Alex to blindfold himself. 

"This isn't a sex thing, is it, Guerin?" Alex asks with curiosity, holding the folded black bandana in his palms. 

Looking down from where he's leaning against the open passenger-side door, Michael grins and replies, "No, but if you play your cards right, it could be." 

"Good. Don't get me wrong, I like your sex things, but we're adults now. We can do sex things in an actual bed and not the back of your truck," he says, finally covering his eyes.

"You loved it back then, don't lie," Michael laughs and leans down to press a kiss to the top of Alex's head.

"I always love it when it's with you." 

Michael could melt. Alex knows exactly what buttons to push to make him all mushy inside. However, he stands firm. He doesn't want to give in and be distracted by those feelings, knowing full well it could turn in to him falling to knees and making it a sex thing. But he has plans for the evening, and they don't involve blowing Alex in the driveway. So he steadies his resolve, kisses him again, and replies, "I do, too. Now stay here," and closes Alex's door before turning to the house. He can hear Alex call after him, "Where would I go? I can't see!" before he quite makes it all the way back inside to gather the supplies he sneakily hid in the laundry room. It takes a few trips, and Alex hears every movement, every squeak of the back door opening and closing, every scrape and slide of another item being loaded into the bed of the truck. Finally, he feels Michael hop into the bench seat beside him and hears him shut the door.

"Ready?" Michael asks.

"Always," Alex replies. Then Michael puts the truck in reverse and grabs Alex's hand.

They hold hands the entire drive out, talking about inconsequential things like what happened at work, or a new song on the radio. It's something they're working on - talking about anything and everything. Opening up lines of communication and having small conversations to make the big ones less difficult. But touching. Always touching. It makes the words come easier if they are able to anchor themselves to one another, as if embedding every word spoken into each others' skin. Michael gently strokes his thumb across the back of Alex's hand, and Alex squeezes in return. 

Soon, Michael leaves smooth roads and turns onto bumpier terrain, the truck bouncing over every rock and every dip in the ground. Alex grips his hand tighter, caught off guard, and Michael chuckles.

"You do remember I can't see, right? You blindfolded an active-duty airman who has one leg and whose own family has kidnapped him before. Maybe that's why I'm jumpy?" Alex laughs, the grin on his face and the sarcasm in his voice betraying what could be sharp words from any other mouth. But Michael’s aware he's joking. He fully recognizes they're at a point where they can tease each other like this, because everything is said with love.

"I do remember, but I also know you trust me," Michael says, affectionately ribbing him back.

"I do," Alex says easily. Matter-of-factly. Cognizant of how much the verbal confirmation of his faith affects Michael. How his words could turn him into a puddle of gooey feelings right there in the driver's seat. But then the teasing tone returns with his next words. "And Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"I know where we are. I knew where we were as soon as you turned off the road."

"Dammit!" Michael exclaims with a laugh, playfully thumping the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. "But I guess I should have known you'd figure it out. All that training to make you mindful of your surroundings really ruins surprises."

Alex laughs back. "Oh, this isn't my Air Force training. It's my _you_ training. You don't think I've known you long enough to know that you take me out to the desert when you're being romantic?"

A pause. A sigh. A concession.

"Okay, yes, that's where we're going, but you don't know what we're doing."

"We're probably going out there to make out like teenagers."

Another pause.

"Michael?"

"Okay, yes, that's what we're doing. But that's not all we're doing."

Silence.

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"I love you and how predictable you are."

Even though Alex can’t see him, Michael beams. The progress they’ve made in the short time since getting together is monumental. It’s incredible to realize they are in agreement on where their relationship stands. That they’re stable. That Alex freely offers his admiration, just to make Michael feel loved. Michael knows it’s because Alex wants to assure him that he won’t bolt; that it’s for real between them this time. And Michael hopes this night will be proof positive he feels the same.

"I love you, too,” he says, still smiling. “Now shush before you ruin more of your surprise. We're almost there."

Alex mimes zipping his lips and true to his word, Michael slows the truck to a stop shortly thereafter. He squeezes Alex's hand to signal their arrival.

"Wait here and let me get set up," he says as he lifts Alex's hand to kiss it.

Alex chuckles. "We've established that I can't see and that I'm not going anywhere. Now hurry up because I want to see you so I can kiss you and thank you properly for bringing me out here."

Michael kisses his hand again and hops out of the truck, walking around to the tailgate and using his telekinesis to aid him in setting everything up both on the ground and in the truck bed. When satisfied, he walks around to Alex's door and opens it. 

"Ready when you are."

Alex removes the blindfold, stuffs it in the breast pocket of his flannel, and looks at Michael. His eyes take a second to adjust and Michael stares, captivated by the depth of darkness reflected back. Before he can even move, he feels Alex's hands reach out to cup his face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss.

"I love you. Thank you for doing this for me. Now help me down."

Michael understands he doesn't need the help, but it’s also not lost on him that Alex is doing so to make him feel needed. That Michael shows love by taking care of his friends and family and that Alex is more than happy to indulge his love language.

With his hand on Alex's lower back, Michael gently guides him around to the back of the truck and gestures out with his free hand. 

"Surprise. Happy birthday, baby."

The set up is simple but romantic. On the ground behind the tailgate is the firepit from outside Michael's Airstream, the fire already roaring, and two lawn chairs. A handful of simple tea light candles surround the area, offering a little more light in the pitch-black night than the firepit alone would provide. Michael has done so for Alex's safety, illuminating the dusty, uneven ground so he won't stumble. In the truck bed is a pile of blankets and pillows looking cozy and inviting. 

But when Alex stops in his tracks, stunned in silence for a few moments too long, Michael grows worried and starts to ramble nervously, old insecurities bubbling to the surface.

"It's too much, isn't it? I'm sorry. I wanted to come out here like we used to, but to make it even better than it was back then. I know you said we were probably coming out here to kiss - which, don't get me wrong, I want to do that, too - but I wanted to create new memories. But I know you hate surprises. I shouldn't have pushed so hard. We can go -- "

Alex turns to Michael, digging his hands into the curls at the base of his skull, and turning his head toward him. 

"Don't apologize. I love it. It's perfect. You're perfect."

Caught off guard when Alex leans in to punctuate his words with a gentle kiss, Michael gasps, giving Alex the perfect opportunity to turn it heated. He can't help but close his eyes whenever Alex kisses him, and in doing so, the rest of his senses are quickly consumed by Alex, Alex, Alex - the movement of Alex’s tongue against his own, the smell of his shampoo, the grounding grip in his hair. It’s enough to render him speechless.

When Alex pulls back, he keeps his hands in place, looking into Michael’s eyes. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says with all sincerity. “I never want to make you feel like I don’t appreciate you. But like you said, I was surprised. It just took me a second to process. Because you’re right, I don’t usually do well with surprises. But this? And being with you? It’s the best present I could ask for. You, Michael Guerin, are one romantic motherfucker. I don't deserve you, but I’m so lucky you’re mine. Now show me what the rest of the plan is for tonight.”

Emotion wells in Michael. If anything, he's the lucky one. He's the one who doesn't deserve such a compassionate man. One who always sees the good in people. Sees the good in him. It's overwhelming to know Alex loves him this much. However, he's scared his voice will betray him if attempts to speak. So instead he reaches behind Alex for the bag on the tailgate. In a small voice, talking around the lump in his throat, he quietly says, "S'mores," and hands it to Alex.

As he waits for his thumping heart to slow after Alex's tender declaration, Michael watches him unpack the graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows, and skewers. He can see Alex's excitement grow, his smile getting wider and wider every time he lifts a new item from the bag. Michael's heart and breathing both calm as he sees how delighted Alex is with his gift.

"I can't remember the last time I had s'mores. I think I was a kid? Maybe on one of those godawful hunting trips they made me go on? But this is so much better. To be out here with you looking at stars and eating s'mores is such a great present. Thank you, Michael."

"Don't forget the kissing. We're gonna do that, too."

"Oh, don't think I've forgotten," Alex winks at him. "But let's get these going before the fire goes out."

They arrange their chairs close to the fire, but even closer to each other, elbows bumping as they stab their marshmallows onto their skewers. Soon, Michael switches his skewer to his outside hand and rests his other one on Alex's leg, ghosting aimless patterns with his fingertips on his thigh.

"Stop!" Alex laughs and shivers as it tickles. "You're going to distract me and I don't want this to catch on fire!"

"Wait, what?" Michael stills the movement of his hand and turns his concentration to the conversation. "Catching it on fire is the only way to eat a marshmallow!"

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" Michael says as he shoves his skewer even further into the flame.

"I can't believe I'm in love with a man who incinerates his marshmallows." Alex quips, jokingly rolling his eyes.

"Wow, okay, Mr. Expert S'more Chef, how do you cook yours?"

"Evenly browned on all sides!" Alex exclaims, incredulous. "Here, taste this. You can't tell me it's not better than charbroiled."

As he pulls the marshmallow off its skewer and holds it to Michael's lips, Michael absentmindedly lets his telekinesis take over holding his skewer over the fire. Giving Alex his full attention, he bites into the marshmallow. But when Alex goes to move his hand away, Michael grabs his wrist to hold it in place, looks into his eyes, and shakes his head no. Alex cocks an eyebrow at him, but doesn't attempt to pull away, obviously wanting to see where Michael is going with this. After he's done chewing, he pulls Alex's fingers into his mouth, licking the residual sugar clean.

"Mmm, warm and sticky," he says, low and suggestive as he releases them.

Alex smirks and leans in, following Michael's lead. He glances down at his lips and then back up into his eyes.

"And you know what else is warm and sticky?" he responds, flirting back just as strongly.

"Oh, I like where this is going." Michael grins. His eyes are half-closed and almost crossed as he tries to take in all of Alex's face inches from his own. He instinctively moves his hand further up Alex's thigh. "Tell me, what else is warm and sticky?"

Alex pulls back and jerks his head toward the crackling flames.

"Your marshmallow, which is currently very much on fire."

"Shit!" Michael exclaims and bursts out laughing. 

He flings the burnt mass of charcoal off the tip of the skewer and into the fire, Alex's laughter now joining his.

"If you weren't such a distraction, Alex Manes, that could have been the perfect marshmallow!" 

"Oh, I'm the distraction? I'm the one sitting here with my hands to myself! I'm just wanting to make my s'mores and prove I'm right about the correct marshmallow done-ness, thank you very much."

Their laughter fades out naturally, and Alex loads another marshmallow onto each of their skewers. 

"I'm not feeding this one to you this time. I already sacrificed one perfect marshmallow to you. The next one is mine. Now burn yours and let me be," Alex says with a smirk.

Soon they fall into a comfortable silence, watching the flames dance as Michael begins rubbing Alex's leg again. Content in each others' presence for a few moments. As much as they are trying to work on communication with words, physical contact will always be the most predominant way they show love. Their connection has always reminded Michael of his console, the pieces knitting together snugly. Drawn to one another. Wanting to be together. Risking a violent reaction if separated. Michael doesn't work on rebuilding the alien tech much these days, not wanting to leave Earth anymore, because his home is here, sitting right beside him.

The quiet comfort between them lasts almost through their second s'more each, but before long, Michael's caresses turn from gentle to purposeful, the insides of Alex's thighs a magnet for his warm, rough hands. Alex's body involuntarily twitches when Michael's fingers move higher, grazing over his dick, causing Alex to accidentally smear chocolate on the side of his mouth from the s'more he's about to take a bite from.

Realizing what happened, Michael looks at him, a flirty pout on his lips. 

"Oops. Sorry about that," he says, cocking his head and shrugging, not sorry at all. "Here, let me help you clean that up."

Eyes locked on each other, Michael moves to stand over Alex, legs on either side of his knees. Bracing his hands on the back of the chair, he leans down and gently presses his lips to the corner of Alex's mouth, tongue sweeping out to lick the chocolate clean. Alex hums his satisfaction, then turns his head slightly so Michael can meet his lips directly. It's soft at first, a delicate pressure, but restraint has never been their strong suit. The kiss quickly becomes intense, all lips and teeth and tongue. Michael moans deeply, but then pulls back to speak.

"Can I…can I sit?" He asks, breathless. "I wanna be closer to you." Asking permission, acutely aware of Alex's leg and never wanting to cause him pain, but needing the feeling of Alex's body against his own.

Alex responds by dropping the rest of his s'more in the dirt, reaching up, and grabbing Michael's ass, forcefully tugging him into his lap to convey his answer. Words be damned. Michael grins and grinds down, pulling a groan from Alex. He throws his head back, which provides Michael with the chance to attach his lips to his neck, right over his pulse point. Alex snakes his hands up the back of his shirt, seeking skin, seeking heat. As Michael continues laying soft, suckling kisses up and down the column of Alex’s throat, he’s lost in his own enjoyment. He feels Alex exhale, beginning to give in to his pleasure, but then tense slightly when Michael's enthusiasm increases. In the back of his mind, he remembers Alex cautioning him against leaving hickeys in places that can be seen above the collar of his uniform, but Michael doesn't care. The way Alex's skin flushes red with the burn of his stubble and the bruising suction of his lips tempt him past a level of rational sense, enticing him to continue just a little longer. He wants to make Alex feel good. Soon, Alex's fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him back, and Michael lets out a noise that's half moan, half defeated acknowledgment, knowing his mischievous fun is over.

"Michael, Michael," Alex whispers, using what little part of his brain is online and not lost to Michael’s kisses. "Truck...we gotta...truck," and motions his head toward the truck bed. The disappointment eases from Michael's face and he grins. When he stands, he offers both hands to Alex. He takes them and allows Michael to haul him upright. But instead of dragging him straight to the truck, Michael wraps his arms around the middle of Alex's back and kisses his nose.

"I love you," he breathes into the quiet between them like it's a secret. Like he’s speaking words no one but Alex needs to hear.

The air changes then; the urgency deflates. By the time they settle into the truck - Michael on his back against the pillows, Alex straddling his thigh - their soft kisses return. Almost lazy, like they used to when they were teenagers, before time was stolen from them. Because now that they're together, they have all the time in the world. They can kiss all night if they want. No outside interferences or distractions. Just the two of them and the linger and drag of abused, spit-slick lips. 

Soon, Alex turns the tables, showing Michael that he feels the same; that he wants to make Michael feel good, too. Because Michael doesn't have to worry about hickeys. In fact, he revels in them. He loves to show off any physical manifestation of belonging to Alex, and Alex belonging to him. And with his allergy to shirt buttons in numbers more than three, it gives Alex easy access to kiss down Michael's neck and chest, taking special care to swirl his tongue over his nipples in a slow and careful consideration, pulling a breathy whine from Michael's throat. He then reverses his path back upward to find the spot behind Michael's ear that drives him crazy. But everything Alex does to him drives him crazy. Even though it's Alex's birthday, Michael now feels like he's the one receiving a gift under Alex's warm and gentle mouth.

Clearly not wanting to let Michael get used to one sensation too long, Alex switches it up, kisses now following the same path his tongue had previously charted. Michael shivers and groans, gripping his hands into Alex's hair as he goes lower, from collarbone to chest to stomach, and Michael can't help but buck his hips up, seeking friction. He feels Alex smile against his skin, then kiss the patch of hair on his stomach and lick over his belly button, making his abs clench and cock strain achingly in his jeans.

Before long, Alex pulls back to sit up, shifting in Michael's lap, looking for some friction of his own. He rests his hands on Michael's hipbones, thumbs rubbing soothingly at his sides. The fire is down to embers, but they still find each others' eyes in the dim light. Alex leans back down with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly open, aiming for Michael's lower abdomen, barely above the waistband of his pants, and maintains eye contact until the very last second. 

And then blows a raspberry just below his belly button that reverberates in the quiet night.

Michael squawks, the sound emanating from him not unlike that of a cat being thrown into a tub of water, as he jolts from his blissed-out reverie.

Alex throws his head back and laughs from deep in his stomach, so exuberant it makes it hard to speak. 

"I'm sorry!" He says between cackles. "But I had to get you back for mauling my neck!"

Michael glares at him for a second, but can't stay mad long. Alex's laughter is contagious and he soon joins in.

"God, you're beautiful when you smile," Michael grins at him. "But really? A raspberry? Come on, I know you were enjoying that just as much as me." He makes a meaningful glance at Alex's fly to find him equally as hard. 

"I was, but I already said no sex things out here," Alex says with a wink, still smiling. "Believe me, I will make it worth your while when we get back home. Now hold me for a few minutes. The fire's out, so we can see the stars."

Michael relents and holds his arms out to envelop Alex. He lays his head on the side of Michael's chest, tucked up under his arm. He settles in and looks up, taking a steadying breath before speaking.

"You know, when we used to do this, I never knew why you were so obsessed with the sky," he begins in a small voice, turning the conversation serious. As much as Michael would love to continue kissing, he knows, like Alex does, that this conversation needs to be had. That they can’t fall back into old habits of misunderstanding each other, stemming from senseless metaphors or defensive circular talk. That a solid foundation is built on communication and staying present with each other. So it doesn’t surprise him that Alex chose this intimate moment to affirm they are on the same page. Michael is not the only predictable one here; Alex’s words have always come easier without the weight of eye contact.

As long as they’re touching, though.

"You wanted to know everything about every star, every nebula in the solar system,” he continues. “I had no idea you were looking for home."

Michael tugs him closer. He wants to make sure Alex's whole body understands his reply. 

"Oh, baby, I am home," Michael assures him, his voice steady. "I mean, yeah, I want to know more about my family and our past and where we came from, but I'm never going to jump in a spaceship and leave you. Not ever."

Alex turns to kiss his chest, bare from where his shirt slipped during their earlier exertions, assuring Michael he's listening. Michael presses on.

"When you were gone, half a world away, I used to come out here and stare at the stars," he says. "But I wasn't looking for home then. I was looking for you. I would think of all the times we were out here and I would teach you the constellations. It helped calm me down to imagine you here and not in danger over there. Hoping maybe you were looking at the same sky and thinking of me."

Michael can see tears well in Alex’s eyes even though he doesn't let them fall, stubborn as ever.

"I was. I did," he confesses, his voice catching. "My unit just thought I was an amateur astronomer with the way I'd go out at night to look at the stars. But I was looking for you, too. Every time we'd go up in a plane, I'd feel closer to you. Holding on to what we had was what kept me alive, kept me going."

Michael uses the arm slung over Alex to grab his hand and lace their fingers together. Aware this is one of those big conversations that needs an anchor.

"Alex, you have me now. Not the me from over ten years ago. Not the fractured memories of me. The me that still brings you out to the desert when I'm being romantic. The me that you don't need to look into the sky to find. I'm right here and always will be."

"I love you so much." Alex breathes out, his emotions back under control. He squeezes Michael's hand to let him know his words have sunk in. "That may be one of the sweetest things you ever said to me. I’m so glad we’re at a point where we can talk things out like this. And Michael?"

"Yeah?"

Alex moves to sit up, raising an eyebrow at him.

“How about some positive reinforcement after that sorta intense conversation?” He reaches into his pocket for the bandana and dangles it in front of Michael's face, grinning a wicked grin. 

Michael furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head, quirking his lips in a small smile. Confused but hopeful about what he thinks Alex is saying.

“Do you mean…?”

"Yeah,” he says, his smile getting impossibly bigger. “I changed my mind. You wanna do some sex things?" 

Michael sits up, too, cradling Alex’s face and shaking his head in delighted disbelief, excited to fulfill his goal of making another happy memory in the desert. 

“Oh, baby, I thought you’d never ask. And believe me, _I’m_ the one who’s glad we’re at a point where sex things count as positive reinforcement,” he smirks, pulling Alex on top of him, picking up right where they left off.

**Author's Note:**

> Let them go on soft desert dates on the show, you cowards!


End file.
